On the Hunt
by SilentiumX
Summary: In the days following Widowmaker's defeat of Ana Amari, Talon set out on a new assignment-reclaiming the hostages rescued by Overwatch. Leading a team of Talon agents, Widowmaker finds herself at the head of a task-force dealing with the blowback of assassinating one of Overwatch's most revered leaders. She now must ask herself, is she still the huntress, or the hunted?
1. Prologue

**Authors Note**

Hey guys! This is my first story so bare with me. I've been obsessed with the Overwatch universe for quite some time now and decided to write a fanfic for one of my favorite characters. I do plan on continuing this if people enjoy it. I posted this story about a month ago but decided to take it down and revise due to second thoughts on where I wanted it to go. Feedback and ideas are always welcome if you have any!

 **Prologue: The Soul of a Widow**

In the night of his death, I felt no remorse. Not a touch of sorrow coursed my veins when I left him there, cold and bloodied on the floor. To try and compensate for the emptiness in my heart was beyond remedy. He left me alone. He left me for those cowards. He left me with the make-believe stories I retell myself before every kill. The ones that tell me I will be okay. That somehow he will come back for me. That one day, I will be human again…

But as I long for the soothing reassurance in his voice, wondering how he could let this happen to us, I'm met with the hollow sensation of betrayal. There is no going back. It's the bargain I've made. He took my soul, so I took his life.

"Widowmaker, you asked for me?" Cade, my second in command, greets me alone at the fire.

"Did the girl agree to our arrangement?" I say.

"Without questions,"

"Then she's just as foolish as the others,"

It's nights like these where I find my sanity. Preparing, and envisioning in my head what it will be like. As a girl, I can remember the same anxious nerves slipping into my pointe shoes and lacing up my bodice. The sweet anticipation of knowing tomorrow beholds the stage of my grand performance. A single moment in time where all else is shrouded behind the spotlight and I become alive in my craft. I like to pretend that he's watching. It was once a dream of mine that he would surprise me at one of my shows. Of course, saving the world with that circus of misled hopefuls was the only thing that could have severed it. So now, he can watch me in all my flowing grace, as I undo everything he spent his life fighting for.

"Have you slept?" Cade says.

"Not since I watched them walk onto that ship with our hostages," I say.

"Don't sweat it. Talon won't let them escape with a prize this decorated,"

"I never said I was," I turn to him sternly.

"Then why are you still up?"

"Perhaps to ask you if the girl agreed to the arrangement?"

He chuckles. "Once she returns, we'll coordinate a plan to infiltrate the village. But we'll have to be quick. They've probably only stopped to refuel and restock their ship. Once they're done, they'll be off."

"Then let's not miss our opportunity,"

"Of course not, Ma'am. You might want to get some rest though,"

"I'm fine," I shoo him away with the flick of my hand and perch myself back against the fallen tree stump.

It's been six days since we lost the hostages. Six days of tracking the desert for that slippery gang of Overwatch fighters. To think this mission could have been completed back in the ruins of that city only infuriates me more now that we've found ourselves on the western coast of Africa. Our resources are depleted, and at the moment we have nothing to show for our efforts but the sand on our boots. Talon didn't send me with much, but what is left of my crew are tired, futile guns who have done nothing but got in my way the past few days. It's something I've gotten used to—being relied on as their only ticket home. I wish I could tell them their service is appreciated, and that their lives matter. But every time I think of words to lift their worthless spirits, or a clever phrase to spring them into action, I'm reminded of why we're all here. We have one duty, and it's dedicated to the fall of Overwatch, regardless of the price.

A world of peace is no longer possible. Not when its only heroes are nothing more than fabricated symbols of hope thrown in our faces to mask the true failures that they are. Talon helped me realize this the night they pried me from my home. There was no glorious protector to help me then. No Overwatch agent to safeguard it's connected families. Not even a loving husband there to save his wife…

"She's here," Cade bumps me awake from the haunting visions of sleep.

The sun has barely broken the horizon. It's only instinct to want to crawl back into the shadows that nurtured me when I was broken, but I find a way to make myself to my feet. Today I'm a slave to finishing this mission. Talon won't tolerate another failed attempt to capture those scientists. And by no means do I look forward to spending another day in this deserted wasteland.

The bronzed skinned girl awaits me at the entrance of my tent. She was given simple orders. Bring us any information on the Overwatch team operating from her village and in return, Talon would provide her impoverished family with a generous payment.

"Couldn't have arrived at a better time," I stretch my limbs and barely keep my balance as I fit into my jumpsuit.

"I'm sorry to intrude so early, ma'am, it wasn't planned." She says.

"Of course, child," I say. "there was never much that could hold me back from opening an early present on Christmas day,"

"Christmas is far from the days I look forward to, ma'am," She says.

"Then surely this Christmas is special," I pull a box for her to sit on and kneel to meet her at eye level. The smile stretching her cheeks makes it impossible to ignore her innocence, but as she begins to tremble, nothing can conceal the dismay that she's trying to hide. Most children are frightened by my appearance, and I get it—skinned deprived of its color, eyes cold as the solstice moon—but for the first time, I'm certain it's not what's creating such a struggle to speak.

"Please forgive me," She says as she breaks into a cry.

I raise her chin with the tips of my fingers, "Shhh. You've done a remarkable duty. You will make your family proud,"

"They found me," She says.

"What?" One of my agents gasps.

My muscles tense, and I dare strike her with a tightening fist that curls at my side.

"They took me in for questioning,"

"Search her!" Cade orders.

As my men straddle her and rip her of her belongings, I maintain her attention. "What's your name?" I ask.

"Kora," she says.

"Such a beautiful name," I say, tracing my nail from the creases of her chin to the lump in her throat.

"And why have you done this for us?" I ask.

"My family is starving ma'am," she cries.

"Then I would expect you to carry out this task to your full potential," I say.

"I did. But…I didn't know they were so ruthless. I didn't know they would take it that far. They… they aren't what the world says they are," She cries.

"And this comes to you as a surprise?" I laugh.

"They beat me. Even threatened to torture me if I wouldn't speak."

"We found this in her bag," Cade holds a small blinking device in his hands. A tracker, much to the likes of Overwatch.

Though I give her the benefit of explaining herself further, her lips remain sealed in terror.

"Hang her!" One of the men shouts.

"Please! I didn't know!" She fights with her words. "Don't hurt me. Don't hurt my family," She pleads

"*tsk* *tsk* *tsk* You poor thing," I rip her jaw so that her eyes stay met with mine. "Trust me, I know what its like to have something terrible happen to those you love." I say. "I'm not going to hurt them…" Her hazel eyes widen with relief. I reach for the rifle at my side, trying to mask the rage biting at my bones. "Just you" I say. In one swift motion, I drop her under the mercy of my weapon, pressing it into her skull.

This is where it takes over-the uncontrollable force. The swelling of trapped memories and nightmares that scorch the remnants of Amelie Lacriox from my soul. It's a thrill almost, because this is where my performance begins. The only remedy I have left to purge the hatred for what I am, and what they've done to me. Today is another opportunity to show him why I do this, and why everything makes sense when we balance the wounds of our past with the thrills we create today.

The trigger and my finger are brought to a slight stutter upon a man I once loved appearing in my head. But it's not enough to stop me, nor will it ever be. _Oh, my beloved, Gerard, look at what you've let become of me._


	2. Chapter 1

The last time I hesitated over a kill was… never. And this time is no different. Every life taken is a life worth ridding from this vanishing world. She screams, but the more I study her drowning eyes, the more I realize I'm freeing her of this imprisonment. I fire, her struggling torso falling limp under the heel of my boot. "Should have kept them pretty lips sealed," I say.

"Damn, another wasted catch." I wring out a cloth to clean the barrel of my rifle.

Foolish girl couldn't last a night without being if her orders weren't simple enough, leading them right to us proved to be and even easier task. They'll be on our location in minutes if we don't get moving.

I turn to my crew. A dozen or so agents sent by Talon to assist me in tracking down the lost hostages. If I had it my way, I'd have come alone. The last thing I need is another Talon pawn getting in my way. But then again, cannon fodder can always provide its advantages. Even to the world's greatest sniper.

"Time to get moving," I say. "Dépeche toi,"

We pile into the aircraft and set a course for the nearest city. In this case Numbani, about twenty klicks north of our location. A perfectly populated city for us to hide amongst and wait out any scouting parties. From there we can contact Talon to send an extraction crew. Surely our enemies have called for more troops now that they've discovered we followed them from those urban ruins.

The jolting from the ship forces me to wrestle with my visor in order to finish its repairs. These damn pilots fly like they've just learned how to navigate air controls. But really, who are they to blame? If it wasn't for that frail old woman nearly taking out my eye, I could be polishing my rifle right now instead. Though I do have to admit, it was quite amusing seeing Commander Amari's face when she realized the assailant at the end of her scope was me. Ending her reign with such a satisfying last impression will no doubt go down as one of my most cherished kills.

"Need help?" Cade, my second in command, reaches for the visor and slips it from my grasp. Popping free a few tools from his belt, he begins to bend and shape the metal back into place. With such calloused and bloodied hands, rewiring the lenses proves difficult. And after torching the splintered pieces back together, his tricks seem to run dry. But just as I'm about to take it back, the visor flares up in a fluorescent red.

"There. Not as good as new, but it should do." He places it back in my lap.

"Thanks," I say.

"See, sometimes you could use a man's touch," he says with a smirk.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Even under the faint glow of the single light on our side of the cabin, I can see him blush, and his eyes barely stay met with mine.

"Widowmaker," a voice calls from the cockpit, "we've picked up an unidentified craft trailing us at increasing speeds,"

"Overwatch," I grin. "How far are we from the city?" Cade and I make our way to the front.

"Still ten klicks, Ma'am,"

The Numbani skyline is faint in the distance. Much of the wind storm has blown a sandy haze over the surrounding area making it impossible to navigate from our altitude.

"I can activate the second thrusters to boost us into the city," the pilot readies his hand.

"And burn the rest of our reserve fuel? You want a trip home don't you?" Cade argues.

He's right, and a boosted landing into Numbani will only draw attention. Still, proceeding by air is not a choice either. The longer we waste at flight, the greater window we give them to catch up and shoot us down without even putting up a fight. Like a fly with no chance to escape being swatted in its path. We won't out run them. But contrary to the others on this ship, I didn't plan on dying like some expendable grunt.

"Put us down there," I point to a small facility on the outskirts of the city. When I turn to retrieve my gear, I'm met by a bulk of the crew, all of them crammed behind us in the cockpit. "Make yourselves useful. Get ready to fight," I order.

The carrier drops us in the courtyard. It's a deserted mess; maybe a research outpost that was abandoned after the construction of Numbani. Besides a few laboratories and apartment buildings, there isn't much to it. An old train station heads off in the direction of the city but its tracks are rusted and broken in some parts. Probably just another failed Omnic settlement. None the less, it provides enough cover to set up a perimeter around the station's entrance at the head of the square. The flight pilots take off for the city to refuel and contact Talon for the extraction, the rest of us prepare.

Down and across the street from my men, I perch my rifle in the shattered windows of an old radio tower overlooking the courtyard. With a mine set at the bottom of the stairs, my position is set. Still, nearly breathless, as a cold chill traveling through my skin slows my heart rate and enhances my senses, I wait. Patient. Silent. Ready for the first prey to be caught in my web.

A slight rustling of glass shards on the stool next to me rings in my ears. Pulling my visor down, I search the skies. The tower begins to rumble with increased strength until I'm following the source of the noise with my scope. Over the rooftops, a small carrier ship cuts its way through the dustbowl.

"Incoming," I radio to the men.

The ship lands on the other side of the facility; well out of sight for any clear shots but even then, I can still hear them barking out orders to search the area while they unload. With no flanking positions for them to take, my focus is on the only two streets leading into the courtyard.

"On your signal," Cade's muffled voice comes in on my earpiece.

The first blue uniform steps out in patient, sturdy strides. Hugging the wall, he slowly checks his corners while moving directly into our position. Unfortunately, corners don't require you to look up. His first mistake will be his last. And a simple gesture from his hand becomes just that.

"Clear," he says.

"Come out," I drag my words.

In a moment, more blue uniforms fall in behind him. The perfect shooting gallery for a gang of overworked Talon agents. With slight pressure on the trigger, I exhale. One shot, one kill.

"Fire," I say.

Without a chance to react, the blue uniforms begin to fall with each piercing crack from the street below me. They scatter throughout the courtyard, firing in seemingly any direction they feel the shots are coming from. I track my first target to a rusted train booth and fire immediately. He slumps over. What was once a clean head of blond hair now rests in a crimson puddle as it's dyed in his own blood. A medic races over to check him, but as quickly as he arrived to aid his clumsy ally, I drop him to the dirt with another direct shot to the head.

"Just where I left off," I say.

There's no shortage of gunfire. I spill round after round into each fool who dares to challenge my aim. These Overwatch fighters are so typical. Quick with courage to rise against and army of brainless robots, but never truly tested.

"We've got company," one of my agents hollers.

Rolling down the street, a small armored vehicle speeds its way toward the strike team. By the time it reaches the courtyard, three of my men have already been shredded by the unmanned turret mounted on its roof. It's not my first encounter with one of these Overwatch innovations, but I can't speak on the behalf of the others.

"Draw the turret's fire. Keep it's tracking opposite of my position," I radio in.

"But Ma'am, did you see what it just-"

"Don't keep me waiting,"

Two agents break for the apartment build, pulling the turret's gaze and giving me a clear view of its back end. Cade lets out a loose spray of cover fire to suppress the incoming troops while I line up the shot.

"ARRGH," groans come in on my ear piece. Before I can let the shot loose, the turret's laser flicks to my direction and showers the tower in bullets.

"Damn it." I drop to the ground.

"I'm hit! I'm hit!"

Through a peek hole in the wall, I catch a glimpse of my decoys. Both agents are knuckled behind a pillar in the station's front; one bleeding out from the chest and barely moving.

"Pathetic," I mutter. The chiming on the tower walls dissipates, giving just a moment for me to peep the window. The turrets focus is back on the agents, only now with my position revealed, it seems that I'll be having company soon.

"Cade, send a shock grenade at that vehicle," I order.

"What? You mean you want me to hit the driver?" He grumbles

"Did I not say the vehicle?"

"But why? You'd waste it on machinery? At most the circuits will only be disabled for a second,"

"Just enough time," I slap a fresh clip into my rifle.

It takes him a second to radio back. Much to my surprise, he holds his tongue from arguing any more. Maybe recalling what happened when we lost the hostages the first time has refined his critical thinking.

"You owe me one if we make it out of this," he says.

I do what I can to lay down cover fire for him and protect my own ass from the swarm of blue pushing towards my position. Ditching his rifle, Cade makes what I'd hate to call a heartening effort to get in range over the vehicle. With nothing but his pistol and grenade in hand, he rages through the onslaught of incoming gunfire, barely making it to the middle of the courtyard before dropping behind a worn barrier.

"Such artistry," I banter.

"Just tell me when you're ready," He screams.

I drop two more targets, but the full assault on my building forces me back to cover. Cade draws the turret's fire, the surface around him being chipped away and spit into the air as nearly all the enemy fire focuses his position. I watch through the peek hole as he struggles to keep all his limbs behind cover; fighting for every second that he can take another breath. For the first time, I find myself pulled by desperation to save another's life. Only because I know if he dies, there's not a chance of me making it out of here.

"Widowmaker!" He chants.

"Now!"

Over the barrier he leaps, taking multiple shots across his body but still managing to launch the grenade in the correct direction. Rising over the sill of the window, I line my crosshairs back onto the turret. It rattles and bounces with each shot at Cade before a buzzing pulse smacks the vehicle, freezing it temporarily. Keen vision makes tracking its fuses nearly effortless. I release my breath and flick the trigger. The shock of my rifle sends a single bullet straight through its metal plating.

"Parfait,"

As the turret engulfs in smoke, shots continue to trade from each side. Disabling it won't win the fight, but most of the enemy begins to fall back and seek cover behind the armored vehicle. In the middle of the courtyard, Cade's body lies motionless and bloodied. A shame; Talon made quite a soldier out of him.

"Any word from the extraction crew?" I radio in.

"Heading back right now, Ma'am. Talon is sending two fighter jets to your position."

"Good,"

As I overlook the remainder of my agents pushing forward, I take a last moment to admire the precision of my kills. They're the only fingerprints I leave. Each a calculated display of artistry. Each a masterpiece in their own form.

It's time for a change in position, so I scout my next location from the tower's vantage. But just as I eye my next nest, the door rattles open. Heavy footsteps and uncontrollable hacking from a man's cough creeps behind me into the room.

Frozen in the anticipation of his attack, I release the tension in my limbs and scan the room for every available option out. He'll have the advantage if I try to draw my weapon, but not the cleverness. No Overwatch servant has ever outwitted me. But as I continue to search for an escape, the itching wonder for why he hasn't killed me yet restricts me into a slow, lethargic one-eighty. His gaze meets mine, but even then he shows no aggression or desire to strike me down. It's not until I've studied him long enough that I realize I'm only being reintroduced to an old friend.

"That's quite a toy you got there." His voice is hoarse and gallant. "And quite a shot."

Graying blonde hair lies atop a hardened face preserved in young age. His dark eyes are flushed red as he continues to cough from my venoms sting. Should I have suspected anyone else? It's no surprise that he would go through so much just to meet with me. I'm sure Commander Amari would be appeased to know you tracked me down, Jack Morrison.


End file.
